The habits we break (and those that break us)
by withered
Summary: There's quiet, stillness. Some is her doing - the anchor of her keeping him from drifting - while the other is his - his measured breathes, his thoughts beginning to slow, until his mouth moves, and he wonders aloud, "You've done this before."


A tumblr request by Anon

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The habits we break (and those that break us)

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Ichigo doesn't sleep.

His insomnia isn't something he shares with anyone. Not that anyone really suspects given how naturally grumpy and quote, unquote "scowly" he is, in the twins' words.

His dad suspects it's happening after the Hollow attack. But just like when Ichigo had been a child - traumatized by his mother's death - his dad doesn't know the real story, can't possibly know what to say to him, and even if he had, Ichigo's always been notoriously stubborn.

Ichigo has always been his mother's son in that way, Dad would tell people with fond sadness.

And as much as he annoys him, Ichigo isn't about to do that to his dad again. He's only got Dad to back off with the worrying, and he doesn't want to tempt Yuzu into it too, now that she's old enough to guilt-trip him about taking care of himself. She does that fine thinking he doesn't get out enough.

So, instead, Ichigo stares at the ceiling; waiting for light to creep in, for shadows to grow.

As he always has.

But in the few days since he'd taken Rukia's powers, the stillness he'd cultivated for years in the hopes that he'd eventually succumb to exhaustion (or, more likely, boredom) had whittled away to nothing, and he can't keep still.

He feels the unbearable urge to throw off his blankets; to pace and stalk and _move_.

And he can't.

Not if he wants to accidentally wake someone.

Or worse, run into someone downstairs. God, walking into the kitchen to see Karin, sitting on the kitchen counter and staring at Mom's blown up picture on the wall, is an image he couldn't erase. Karin's always been quieter about her grief than any of them have. At the time, seeing her there had been the reason he'd settled into his routine with fervor, even if his skin still itched with the phantom tease of adrenaline, but he'd felt awful for it - like a voyeur of the pain she'd kept so carefully concealed from them.

He can't risk doing that to her.

So, he doesn't get up, much as he wants to.

Ichigo huffs out a breath, rolls over again, and stares at the clock he'd turned towards him a few hours ago. The dumb thing is broken: It says only twenty minutes have passed since the last time he'd looked.

He rolls over again, punching at his pillow like the fault lays in it before he settles again, exhaling noisily.

The room is quiet; the night still - and then the closet door slides open.

He's almost relieved for the distraction, already tossing back around and raising himself on an elbow to glare at his roommate, and hissing, "What?"

"What, what?" Rukia mocks, equally conscious that they could be heard as they trade harsh whispers, "I may be dead, but this body needs rest too."

He recoils a little, embarrassed and grateful that its dark enough that she probably can't see it.

Ichigo doesn't apologize for waking her - he didn't even know she needed to sleep, and it isn't like he _asked her to stay with him _\- but grunts his acknowledgment, and tries to school himself into something resembling a model of sleep until he hears her huff again, the closet door closing with a sigh.

He doesn't realize he's coiled tight, stiff as a board when he feels a cool touch against his arm, and he's so startled he jerks into the wall hard enough to bruise.

"What the hell -"

"Move," she orders in a hiss, and he's caught by her appearance: the streetlight from his window shines off the apple of her cheek, a touch of pale gold against her cheekbone, nose and the curve of her lips; Rukia's wearing one of Yuzu's pajamas, the yellow one with the bunnies; everything's askew, hair included, and the tiredness that pulls around her eyes is the reason he'll give for why he so easily follows her commands. He won't say he's sorry for waking her. He didn't ask her to be here anyway - "Can't enjoy a decent bed, unbelievable," she mutters.

He bites his lip, feels bad for even entertaining the idea, however fleeting, of sending her off; Rukia doesn't have her powers. She's basically human. She doesn't have anywhere to go. He turns to face the wall determined not to fold to the panic that makes his hands twitch, his muscles shake.

He takes a breath; in - out: catches the scent of his shampoo, fresher in Rukia's hair from her more recent shower; the detergent of the clothes stored in her sleeping quarters and something that reminds him of the cold; like a winter breeze.

She's cooler than he expects, temperature-wise, she shivers from the change of it. Though the warmth of his bed, with his blankets and his own body heat, is welcomed relief in her sigh and the way her body sags. Ichigo makes a mental note to leave more blankets in the closet.

For all her formal behaviors, though, Rukia isn't shy about cuddling in close, forehead rested against the wing of his scapula, arm hooked through his. She's careful to keep her lower body at a respectable enough distance away - nothing suggestive or improper really - if it had been Yuzu or Karin, he'd probably just nudge them back a little, untangled their feet. As it is, he doesn't do anything more than give a cursory grumble.

"I'm doing this for your own good," she answers, prim and haughty like she really believes that.

"Really," he says with a sarcastic roll of his eyes to no one but the wall he's facing. "You stealing my bed and my body heat is doing me a favor."

He feels her nudge his back in a nod, and Ichigo thinks, fine, that's it - now he has to stay still because Rukia is there literally holding him down, and if he won't sleep, at least he won't move, and that's something - that's -

She exhales loudly. "For someone who doesn't like to talk, you think really loudly."

"Then just go back to your closet, it'll be less loud from in there," Ichigo snarks in return.

Haltingly, Rukia replies, "No, it won't." Then, "You're used to this though, not sleeping."

"How do you figure that?" Sure, Ichigo had slept like a rock that first night he'd taken her powers, but she'd had her part in knocking him out then. And all the times after, he'd - he'd tried -

"I can hear you," and failed apparently, though she doesn't sound judgmental or annoyed by it, in fact, she sounds almost...Rukia leaves it, says instead, "It's an adjustment, Shinigami powers; it feels like there's more potential in you, that you need to move, that you have to _go. _Once you kill a Hollow, once you purify a soul; it feels like -"

"Purpose," he completes, and yes-yes, that makes sense.

He'd known it felt different from when his mom had died. There weren't any nightmares to go with his sleeplessness; nothing tangible to blame it on, except his new powers - except Rukia. That's what it is - guilty - Rukia feels guilty.

"I'm sorry," she says in confirmation to which he shakes his head, peering over his shoulder. Despite how they're pressed together, she doesn't hide in the shadow of him and she meets his gaze almost defiantly - _yes, I'm sorry, _it says, _but it had to be done; I didn't want you to carry this burden, but it's yours now, and I can still feel bad for the necessity of it; the cost of it. I can still be sorry that it had to be you. _"

He chuckles, and her eyes widen in surprise as his mouth curves into something like a smile. "I'm used to going without sleep, but I'm not used to having something to stay awake for."

He looks away then, back to the wall, and he hears her hum. Then, "You want to go - you want to patrol and purify and hunt, but you can't. Not every night. You need your strength and your rest when you can get it. Until you learn to give yourself a break, I'll be here to make sure your body rests, if not your mind."

Ichigo huffs, hopes she hears his thanks, and thinks she does when he doesn't shuffle around anymore.

There's quiet, stillness. Some is her doing - the anchor of her keeping him from drifting - while the other is his - his measured breathes, his thoughts beginning to slow, until his mouth moves, and he wonders aloud, "You've done this before."

A beat passes, then, "Yes, with my family."

"In Soul Society."

"The Rukongai," she verifies, and his mind niggles on the distinction, "That's different."

"A different part of it, yes."

Undeterred by her hesitation, he prods, "So the Seireitei is..."

"The Court of Pure Souls," Rukia says, "it's where Shinigami live, train and work."

"What's the difference between there and the Rukongai?"

She shuffles behind him, and Ichigo thinks she won't answer. Then, "Only souls with spiritual pressure are permitted to live in the Seireitei, not all of them land up there when they pass on. Most of us end up in the districts, like the Rukongai. It's...crowded...and difficult."

Ichigo doesn't realize he's threaded his fingers through hers until she squeezes back. "They don't just let you in, even if you meet the requirements. You need to take the Shinigami exams, you need to pass." She inhales, exhales. "The exams don't happen very often and souls with spiritual pressure, they get agitated; they start fights, get in trouble - die. My family and I stuck together, grounded one another until we could take the exams, and put the energy to use."

"Did it work?"

"Yes," she replies, the answer muffled into the material of his shirt indication enough that the success rate wasn't as high as she'd hoped.

"Your family...?"

"Just me...and Renji," she says, and the name comes out rusted like she isn't used to saying it or maybe that she's tried not to say it for so long. Maybe...maybe Rukia misses this Renji, and Ichigo's just - he's a substitute for more than just her badge.

"Is he...waiting for you there?" Ichigo doesn't know what answer he expects, what will be better, but she takes a steadying breath before saying, "No. No one's waiting. No one's...no one's looking."

Ichigo doesn't turn again, much as he wants to. Rukia's holding onto him too tight, and it's much his fault as hers, his thumb pressed against her knuckles, and beneath her palm, he knows she can feel his heart pounding angrily. "Is that why...is that why you did it? Why you...gave up your powers for me because no one was going to miss you?"

"Yes."

Lie, he hears instead.

Rukia-Rukia's the type of person who'd give herself up for anyone just for the chance to save them. She'd put herself in harm's way to ensure someone else didn't get stupid and get themselves hurt, even if it meant she'd be the one doing the stupid thing and risk getting herself hurt in exchange. She'd do it. She'd do it if she was alone. She'd do it if she had a whole family who loved her, would wait for her, would miss her if she - She'd do it.

And Ichigo almost chokes with how hysterical his laugh comes, how it suddenly dawns on him how his dad can think of his mom with such fond, furious, sadness.

"Go to sleep," she eventually says, undisturbed by his misplaced amusement as she rubs her hand in soothing circles against his chest. "Go to sleep, Ichigo."

"I won't," he finally says, once he's settled.

At that, Rukia snorts. "Ichigo."

"I won't wait for you, if you disappear," he verifies, hand over hers, "I'll go out and find you. I won't...I won't leave you behind."

Ichigo doesn't know how she feels about that, whether she believes him, but she presses her face against his shoulder, tucks her knees behind his and exhales slowly. He thinks, when he finally feels sleep tug at him, that she says, "I know."

Lie, he mentally retorts, but he'll show her. He will.

Ichigo is his mother's son, after all.

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**A/n: **Make your requests on my tumblr at everything-withered


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